there were more than a few moments when I felt depressed and
overwhelmed.
I became painfully aware of how far I had to go when I returned
to the baseball field one year later. Baseball had always been a
major part of my life. My dad had played minor league baseball for
the St. Louis Cardinals, and I had a dream of playing professionally,
too. After months of rehabilitation, what I wanted more than
anything was to get back on the field.
But my return to baseball was not smooth. When the season
rolled around, I was the only junior to be cut from the varsity
baseball team. I was sent down to play with the sophomores on
junior varsity. I had been playing since age four, and for someone
who had spent so much time and effort on the sport, getting cut was
humiliating. I vividly remember the day it happened. I sat in my car
and cried as I flipped through the radio, desperately searching for a
song that would make me feel better.
After a year of self-doubt, I managed to make the varsity team as
a senior, but I rarely made it on the field. In total, I played eleven
innings of high school varsity baseball, barely more than a single
game.
Despite my lackluster high school career, I still believed I could
become a great player. And I knew that if things were going to
improve, I was the one responsible for making it happen. The
turning point came two years after my injury, when I began college
at Denison University. It was a new beginning, and it was the place
where I would discover the surprising power of small habits for the
first time.
